The Secret
Prologue In the coming dawn of a beautiful, frosty day in Tir Na Nog, a deathly ill Winter Fey lie limp on a large bed, coughing and shrieking. The midwives swarmed around the pregnant sidhe, desperately trying to save her. The father was absent. The wife, Frostwood, had refused to tell anyone who the father was. The fey pressured her to confess, but she wouldn't have it. For reasons unknown to anyone but Frostwood, she lasped into a deep despair. She came down with a mysterious sickness that wracked her body with coughs, shakes, and vomiting, just days before her child was born. The midwives and healers were fearful she would not survive. Frostwood let out another shrill scream, her long, wavy brown hair damp and warm. She gasped and panted, and finally, her daughter made her entrance to the world. Frostwood let out a little breath and fell back on the bed, her midwives and healers carrying various remidies and potions. A tall, slender black-haired fey immediately rushed toward the newborn on the bed, her gorgeous, long emerald green dress billowing. She was the baby's ever-lasting nursemaid, from the time she was born until she herself died. The baby did not move. She did not let out a breath. She was motionless, silent, eerily beautiful. The nurse scooped up the bloody baby, wrapping her in a warm towel, and hurried outside the nursery doors, clutching Frostwood's daughter tightly. No one paid her any attention. She knew best; she knew where she was going with the baby. A blast of cold hit the fey nurse, Maple, and she pushed herself through knee-deep snow as snowflakes brushed against her cheeks. She broke into a gentle run, entering the forests. The trees were tall and branchless, though thick. Maple squeezed herself through two enormous oaks and let out a tiny gasp of relief. In the middle of a small clearing lay a large, clear golden pool. Maple crouched down and shakily removed the blanket from the naked baby. Frostwood's daughter was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. Dark brown hair, already in waves, with a pale complex and rosy cheeks. A perfect face. Her eyes were closed and her hands were balled into tiny fists. Closing her eyes, Maple lowered the baby into the pool. The clear gold liquid oozed over everything but the baby's gentle face. The molten was warm and thick. Maple looked deep into the child's face. She was obliged to save her at any cost and felt a deep pang of affection. Gold glamour, the color of the pool, surrounded her. Her job description didn't include sacraficing herself, but that was what she would do. She closed her eyes and murmured a few ancient words, older than the oldest tree in the Nevernever, older then Mab or the Summer King, Oberon. She decided a name for the baby. A beautiful name came to thought, and she smiled. "Ariella, my love, don't forget me. You will always remember me. Don't forget me." The strength flooded out of her body and into the child's. Maple bit down a scream as unbearable pain lanced through her. For the child, for the child. She fell facefirst into the gold pool, twitching. The baby began to glow with silver light. Ariella didn't sink. She floated, and the last thing Maple saw before black entered her vision was Ariella open her eyes, the most beautiful shade of violet, and her dark brown hair turn pale silver. They found a beautiful, wailing orphan on the snowy bank and Maple dead in the pool hours later, a whisper of the name Ariella on her blood-red lips. Chapter 1 I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the familiar gold-and-black swirled ceiling of my home. I was too lazy to get up; the thick quilt kept me warm, something Winter fey usually despise. I snuggled the covers over myself again, and just as I closed my eyes I heard a cheery voice call, "Ariella! Wakey-wakey!". I stifled a low moan and sat up, rubbing my eyes. A woman of medium height bounced on the foot of my bed, her tight red curls bouncing with excitement. Her hair didn't conceal two furred ears, however. Siotha, my phouka-nursemaid since birth. I loved her to death, but we were polar opposites in personality and appearance. I climbed out of the bed, stretching my long legs. "Good morning, Siotha." I greeted. The phouka ruffles my hair and grins. She laughs, "You need to get prettier than Gabriella." I let out a giggle; it was a inside joke between us. Gabriella was the ugliest female troll in the Nevernever. She was employed by the royals to scare off all intruders at the gates. Siotha eyed me. "Mab wants to see you." she purred. "C'mon; go take a bath. Julie and Ceclia will be there." I shifted uneasily on the bed, but shoved aside my nervousness. "It would be an honor," I said quietly. Siotha flashed me a knowing smile and clapped me on the back with a loud, "That's my girl!" I got up from my bed, noticing Siotha had drawn the curtains from the window and the weather outside was chilly but beautiful.'' Mab must have been in a good mood'', I thought. I pulled my hair into a quick, sloppy braid, and I heard Siotha say, "Lady Weaver's making you a dress," before she turned into a sleek, ginger-furred cat and slunk outside my door to get Lady Weaver. I smiled and walked across my room, opening the bathroom door as I slipped inside. The bathroom was rather large, as I had a pool hollowed from the ground in the corner. Water shot out of the side. For reasons unknown to myself, I could only bathe in a pool or bath. A shower would burn my skin until I burst into tears. I had been treated for severe burns before. Luckily, I healed quickly. Two nymphs were at the side of the pool, drawing out my bath and lining up various shampoos, lotions, and gels in a little table. The taller nymph turned around and regarded me. "Tsk, tsk, Ariella." she purred. "You look like a wyvern got your hair!" I hid a smile. "Just because you always look perfect, Cecilia, doesn't mean you can tell me that." I defended myself. And I meant it. Cecilia's straight, dark golden hair was always pulled into a tight ponytail, not a hair out of place. Her clothes was always clean, and she just looked... professional. Cecilia laughed. "Actually, it does." Julie spun around and snapped at me. I didn't like her nearly as much as Cecilia. "Ariella, quit fooling around and get in the damn pool," she snarled. I blushed and shed my nightgown, stepping into the ebony pool and making sure not to accidentally fall at the steep steps. The water, warm as usual, quickly filled up to my waist and I sunk down as Ceclilia poured some water on my head. She gently soaped my long, straight, pale silver hair as Julie rubs me down with various sweet-smelling gels. Soon I am done, and Julie hands me a thick towel to wrap around myself as Cecilia blow-dries my hair. There's a knock on the door, and Julie quickly opens it, a blast of sudden hair making her auburn hair blow. Siotha hurries inside with a dress in her hand. Siotha holds up the dress, her golden eyes glowing. "Isn't it amazing?" she cooes. It certainly is. Strapless, simple, a beautiful violet the shade of my eyes. Floor length, with a curvy shape and diamonds engraved at the bottom and top. My jaw drops. "Am I suppose to wear that?" I squeal. Julie stares at the dress. "I suppose you are." she finally concludes. I can tell she wants to try it on. I drop my towel and slip the dress over my head as Cecilia quickly combs through my hair and adds a sparkling jewel, a diamond to match the ones on the dress. Julie, who is best with makeup, touches up my face just a tiny bit, since I honestly don't need any. My cheeks are always slightly rosy and my skin is unmarred and smooth. I'm still a child; in the mortal world I would appear to be twelve I guess, but I've been alive for much more than that, though I don't remember that much. I haven't even met Mab's sons yet. Cecilia drags me to the ceiling-to-floor mirror and I gape at my reflection. I look... simply stunning. My waist length hair, straight, silver, and shimmery, makes an amazing contrast against the bright purple. My eyelids are violet, same shade as my eyes. My ears poke out of the sheen of my hair, and my face is all gentle angles. Siotha wastes no more time. I thank Julia and Cecilia and she ushers me out the door, back into my bedroom. Handing me a pair of glass slippers, I hurry out of the room, Siotha following behind, through the dark, cold hallways until I make my way into Mab's throne room. Chapter 2 Siotha sends me a comforting smile and stops outside Mab's realm. I know she's not coming with me. Two guards bow and open the 12-foot high dark-wooded door wide. A cold blast of icey air rushes toward me, and I feel my hair blow away from my face. Mab is on her throne, two young men on her left side and the smallest one on her right. Mab watches me with cold black eyes, and I silently walk towards her, my glass heels quietly clipping the marble floor. Her wide room is empty, without chairs. On purpose, I know, so her subjects or enemies must stand or sit at her feet. Mab's throne is gorgeous, the darkest ebony embedded with rubies. I hesitate and then curtsy, red blooming across my cheeks. The room rises a couple degrees, and Mab and reaches out a hand to caress my cheek with a tiny, strained smile. "Ariella, my love. How are you?" she askes. Her dark hair is braided beautifully, I notice. "My lady, I am doing well, thank you." I answer. Mab retreats her hand and says, "Ariella, you know, I've always wanted a daughter. I only have my sons. You would have made a wonderful queen." She waves her hands toward the black-haired boys by her side. These are her sons? I look at them closely. The tallest one, in mortal age 17 or so, with long black hair and green eyes. The second one next to him, with shorter black hair and blue eyes that are giving me the impression he's trying to see through my dress. I supress a shiver. Creepy. The son by himself is my age; in fact, he looks the tinest bit younger. Shoulder length black hair, shaggy bangs that fall in front of his face. All her sons are achingly handsome. I study the youngest son, and he shakes his hair away from his face. He has bright silver eyes and high cheekbones, with a proud, cold expression that slowly melts as I gaze at him. I see him blush, barely, and rip my eyes away from him. His blank expression returns. Mab laughs, and I can tell she's genuine. Many people tell me I bring out the best in her. I don't know why; she just likes me a lot. "Ariella, you look stunning today. I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to learn how to... defend yourself. I'm afraid you'll grow into some delicate thing that can't defend herself." I jerk my head back to Mab, beaming. "That would be amazing, my queen. It is greatly appreciated." Mab shooes me away with her onyx-striped nails. "Wait at the edge of the forest, my dear. Ash will go teach you." I smile and turn around, practically jogging towards the doors. The guards bow once again, and before I leave, I hear Mab screaming at a guard who entered her room. The doors whip closed with a cold draft and a shriek. And Queen Mab of the Winter Court is back. Chapter 3 Five minutes later, I'm dressed in chocolate brown leggings and a white sweater, my hair tied into two braids. I shiver and wrap the sweater tighter around myself as I wait at the edge of the forest for Prince Ash. Ash. I wonder which brother that is. Probably the oldest one, the one with ice-green eyes. I like the name Ash. It can either be the tree or the soot type. I shake my head for being absurd. I look up at the darkening sky, the cold, bitter wind, and the light snow that's begun to fall as I hear the crunching of boots approaching. I turn around to see the youngest prince, back against a tree causually. He's dressed in a black coat with black boots, opposite of my white ones. A sword is hung at his belt and he has a bow and arror at his shoulder. "Are you Prince Ash?" I ask. He gives a little start at my voice. "Um..." he clears his throat and attempts to sound less flustered. I inwardly smile. "Yes, I'm Ash." he answers cooly. "And you're Ariella, Helena's daughter, right?" I stiffen. Helena is not my mother. She's a woman who does not care for me who happened to give birth to me. I guess Ash sees my reaction because he quickly covers it up. "Never mind. That was stupid." I shrug. "It's alright," I whisper, though inside I'm scarred and sad. His icy demeanor softens a bit. "C'mon." He gestures toward the forest. "I'm going to teach you how to hunt." He passes me the bow and arrow and I stroke it gently. It's a delicate thing, made of plain, simple, smooth white wood. Thin golden bands encircle it. I look up at Ash. "It's beautiful." I whisper. Ash nods approvingly. "Mab requested it especially for you." Ash frowns slightly, watching the bare-leaved woods, and then says, "Follow me," as he begins to jog into the woods. I sling the arrow over my shoulder and catch up. I can't help but notice how much we're like wolves right now: silent, graceful, fast, deadly, and beautiful. Ash and I make no sound as we prowl through the woods. Trees flash past us as we sprint through the woods. Suddenly, Ash stops at the edge of a snowy clearing and moves his mouth to my ear. In a barely audible whisper, I hear his voice. "Straight ahead." I slowly turn my head and look at my prey: A female doe, limping, half way across the clearing. "Load your bow. Hold it tight. Focus on her. Then let it fly." I do as he says, straining my muscles to stretch it. The poor doe doesn't even realize she's probably about to die. She'll bolt anyway, fall, and break her other leg. The doe is small and delicate, with a lovely fawn colored coat and wide, gentle brown eyes with long lashes. But I can tell she's ill. I can tell though she's rather plump, her ribs are showing, a sickly sweet odor surrounds her, and her eyes are dull. She's so innocent I feel sick. Ash looks at me, and I see the question in his eyes. What's taking so long? And just as I'm about to let the bow go, I it stops to to paw some frost, where underneath it might find some nutrients for the life inside her. It's pregnant, as I suspected. Immediately, I let go of the bow, dropping it, and walk slowly towards it, leaving a stunned Ash by himself. I splay my hands in front of myself. The doe notices me, and her eyes widen. She tries to run, but her broken leg stops her. "Don't go." I whisper. "Don't go." The doe stops as I approach her, my voice gentle and calm. "I'm going to help." The doe lets out a tiny bleat and then collapses, folding her legs underneath her. Her head is thrown across the snow and her breathing comes low and shallow. I quickly advance, kneeling down beside her. I run my hands along her side. "Shh," I comfort. I summon all the Winter glamour I have inside of me, feel it rushing through my bones, gold and radiante. I let it flow towards the doe's mouth. The doe convulses with a low moan, and the baby inside slides out into the snow, bloodied, battered, and tiny. I know the doe won't survive. She's too sick for me to heal her. As I watch, my heart failing, she raises her head, thankfulness shining in her eyes. I know she's grateful. Her head falls back and she does not move again. A tear slides down my cheek and I gently skim my hands over the fawn. Its not breathing. I feel no life under the thin pelt, no beating of her heart under my cool fingers. I have a vivid memory. A woman, brown-eyed, leaning over me as a baby. I'm suffocating, I can't breathe. The strange picture is gone from my mind in a second and I take off my sweater, folding it gently around the fawn. It's so small it fits in my hands. I knead its lungs, rub my hands along her fur the right way, wipe mucus from her nose and remove her sac. Then, with the last of my glamour, I insert it in the fawn. Its lungs move and, jubilant, I snuggle it in my arms and stand up. I feel the fawn nestle its head in my chest and feel fierce affection. The baby is an orphan, and I'm its mother. The falling snow has already covered the dead doe. I murmur a prayer to her and turn around to see Ash at the edge of the treeline, pulsing with white rage. I'm so dead. I giggle as I walk toward him. Chapter 4 Category:Fanfiction Category:Nightfern's Fanfiction Category:Melting Ice series